


the only price you pay is a heart full of tears

by maternaljoke



Series: sbi platonic soulmate fantasyverse [3]
Category: DreamSMP, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Injury, Gen, Light Angst, Loneliness, Platonic Soulmates, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maternaljoke/pseuds/maternaljoke
Summary: Craters dot the area, gaping pits of debris in the already broken earth.They’re just as empty as his chest.Techno gets to his hooves. They shake and groan, joints popping under the weight of what he’s done.He drowns in the sight of the broken rock, feels his mind go numb, and then he starts walking.======Soulmate AU in which you can only see one or two colors until you meet your soulmate(s), who then gets the colors you can see and vise versa.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: sbi platonic soulmate fantasyverse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881601
Comments: 12
Kudos: 244





	the only price you pay is a heart full of tears

**Author's Note:**

> you can buy a dream or two  
> to last you all through the years  
> and the only price you pay  
> is a heart full of tears  
> going down to lonesome town  
> where the broken hearts stay  
> going down to lonesome town  
> to cry my troubles away  
> ======  
> lonesome town - ricky nelson

The first thing he notices is the sun. 

Black dots in the background of his vision, blurring the edges. A dusty, melting window, boiling glass sitting in the palm of a hoof, bubbling and fizzing.

Birds circle and cry over him, swirling a messy, broken circle. Their wings beat and swing, a dark string melody, the vibrato echoing through the nooks and crevices of his skull and pounding at the walls. His eyes sting, crusting under the bottom eyelids, stuffing up the corners, and his teeth are caked with layers of plaque, his mouth dry and staticy, his ears ringing a bit too violently.

His hands feel numb as he pushes up on them, forcing himself into a sitting position. They claw and dig at the dried, cracking dust and rock, covered in a thin layer of sandy dirt. His eyes cry in pain as they adjust to the harsh light.

Despite the layers of pain, his eyes widen and his lips part in a gentle gasp as he realizes what he's looking at.

The portal is crumbling at the edges. The obsidian is a lumpy, weighted purple, broken at the top and shriveling into powder at the edges. Dead embers sit beside its base, bubbling orange and red heat circling like a trench around what once was the entrance to his home. Craters dot the area, gaping pits of debris in the already broken earth.

They’re just as empty as his chest.

Techno gets to his hooves. They shake and groan, joints popping under the weight of what he’s done.

He drowns in the sight of the broken rock, feels his mind go numb, and then he starts walking.

* * *

Piglins aren’t nice creatures.

Of course, that's expected. Nothing from hell can be anything good.

Techno’s never considered himself an exception to that rule. Through his tirades of burning down cities, slaughtering families and innocent bystanders to his crimes, robbing bankfuls of gold and quartz from said families, he hasn’t done a lot of good.

He’s always been an odd criminal, he supposes. Tossing all his earnings into pits of lava, feeling a foreign pressure build up in the back of his head as he stands over orphaned corpses.

He’d never planned on hurting anyone. He’d never wanted to hurt anyone. It just happened.

And he’ll never let himself forget that.

He manages to reach a town. Abandoned. Techno can tell that much as soon as he sees it looming on the horizon. 

It’s different from the towns he’s used to, but he can see the signs of once bustling life evidently painted along the dry, rotting wood. There’s a few creatures left. A cockroach here or there, a rat chewing on its sister. Painted skulls sitting in motel beds.

The bar’s a mess. Shattered glass and piss-stained wood. The smell of beer sticks to the air. 

He pours himself a shot of vodka. 

Pauses. 

He throws the glass onto the floor, letting the shards join its broken cousins. 

The bar ends up with one less bottle than before.

He manages to scrounge up a few supplies. A grey water canister, an even darker grey backpack. It has a few holes, but it gets the job done fine. 

He doesn’t really need water, but the canister carries vodka decent.

He sits on the porch stairway of what once was a family home, sipping stinging, foul liquid with weak fingers and weighted eyelids. Looks up at the sound of a creek. 

On the railing of the house a few feet in front of him, there’s a cat. Dusty grey in coloring, eyes slitted and orange, nose rotten grey and claws torn.

_ You’re a monster. _

“I know.” His voice is hoarse, aged like fine milk. 

_ You’ll never forget. Nobody will. _

He blinks. 

“I know.”

The empty sockets of the skull stare back at him.

Techno blinks, and then he starts to cry.

* * *

He walks.

Minutes turn into hours into days into… well, he isn’t sure. The time blurs together. 

Maybe this is his punishment, he thinks. His punishment for the burnt buildings. The blood split, the riches swept away under the darkness of cooled lava and dying fire.

Infinite walking. Undying heat and sunlight boring down on him.

Not a conscious soul in sight.

Night isn’t much easier. The sand and rock cools and the air dries, his body cries in pain as he sprawls out on rock. 

He traces shapes along the stars, bright and dotted, gentle and so, so far away.

For a moment, he wishes the sky weren’t just black and white. He hasn’t seen much color since he left the nether.

Just grey.

So much fucking grey.

His throat closes up.

Dust claws at the corners of his eyes.

He feels a static press down on his chest.

He starts to sob.

* * *

The sun scrapes at his retinas as he squints out into the distance. Heat bores down on him, a weighted boulder crushing his spine and collarbones. His hooves ache from where they’re rubbed raw against rock.

There’s something miles ahead. Small and dotted, barely a speck of dust on a camera lens.

He stops.

He begins to sprint.

The sun shines orange along the petals. Techno crouches, letting his fingers ever-so-gently graze along the edge of the tulip. It flutters red in the evening light.

He looks up. 

A breeze washes over his face.

In the distance, he hears bells.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter at [@wilbursand](https://twitter.com/wilbursand)
> 
> i have a [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/tarrypoo)! come ask me somethin <3


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